Before It's Too Late

Holding on to my brush with death.

It was a hot Israeli night, the rubber of the bus tires steaming against the pavement; the moon looking like it was lit by orange embers. My husband and I were off to Jerusalem for an outing, just the two of us, our brood of young children left behind with a babysitter.

After a lovely evening we boarded the bus back home to our city, half an hour away. We entered the city limits and the bus ambled towards the first stop. The driver opened the doors of the bus and suddenly he stood up

"Who threw this?" he said. He held an olive pit in his hand, oblong and sharp. It was hard to see under the murky lighting of the bus. The passengers stared back at him, uncomprehending.

The driver was insistent. "Someone threw this on my bus!" I looked at the sea of faces, men returning from work, women clutching infants on their laps. Then I looked at the driver, an Arab from a neighboring city, much like many of the drivers our bus company hired. His face was brooding. I looked away.

"Let's get off the bus," I said to my husband, a nervous flutter in my stomach. "We'll figure out our own way home."

But it was too late. The driver slammed the doors shut and sat back down in his seat. And then he began barreling down the road.

"He's going too fast," I said to my husband. The driver picked up speed and we were throttling down the hill, over speed bumps, the bus careening every which way.

"Call the police!" someone yelled. People ripped cell phones out of their pockets as the driver made random turns, the bus careening like an out of control machine. Suddenly I saw the driver headed toward a gate that bordered on a deep valley. I had heard of terrorist attacks of this nature before.

We're going to die, I thought. Our children are going to have no parents, heaven forbid.

While people frantically called the police, I hung my head out of a narrow stretch of window at the top of the bus.

"Help!" I screamed. "The bus is being hijacked!"

It was nearing midnight and the streets were desolate save for a lone pedestrian here or there. A man looked up and stared. He could see me waving my hands and screaming but he couldn't make out what I was saying. He looked helpless, but he couldn't have felt half as helpless as I felt.

The driver continued up the hill.

"If he wanted to kill us," my husband said, "he would have ditched into the valley. He's just trying to scare us. Trust me."

I prayed that he was right. I thought of each of my sweet, beautiful children. I thought of the unborn child within me that might never have the chance to experience the wonder of this world.

"He's heading towards the entrance of the city," someone yelled.

Oh God, I thought. Please let them stop him at the city entrance.

Just then a patrol car swerved in front of the bus, blocking his path. The driver stopped the bus and the officer got out and banged on the door. The doors opened, releasing the shaken passengers.

We were free.

The passengers crowded around the police officer, wanting to help in pressing criminal charges.

"We should go give our testimony," my husband said.

I shook my head, shaking. "No. I just want to get home to the kids."

We ordered a taxi and made it home, apologizing to the babysitter for the delay. Then I sat down on the couch and I cried my nearly broken heart out.

It is difficult to live your life as if perched on the precipice of tragedy.

Over the past week, I, along with thousands around the world, have been following the story of the horrific crash on the Taconic State Parkway which killed eight people -- many of them small children. Sweeping all controversy aside, it is clear that there were many innocent victims here, and for that America mourns. In eulogizing his three daughters, Warren Hance broke down and said, "Love your children, cherish your children, kiss your children, and do not forget..."

I cannot compare my near encounter with the loss that this poor man has suffered, but it did bring me back to a few moments in time when I thought that I might never be able to hold my children again.

It is difficult to live your life as if perched on the precipice of tragedy. Within days of my experience I found myself back in my old habits, loving my children but feeling the usual frustrations of motherhood. But now I had a tool to help me through it -- a memory which helped me to reframe my perspective.

Unfortunately, Warren Hance doesn't have the opportunity to put his newfound perspective into practice.

But I still have the chance. And hopefully, so do you.

Appreciate your children more.

Give them one extra cuddle at bedtime, those five minutes to help your child fix their computer, one phone call you don't answer in lieu of spending time with your child.

Love your children, cherish your children and savor every precious moment as if it's your last.

Visitor Comments: 14

sometimes i wish i could go back in time but i an savoring precious moments with my beautiful grandchilren and enjoying my chidren now even more.

(13)
judy Zinn,
August 13, 2009 1:37 AM

mrs. Mermerlstein always writes very well. I always look forward to her articles. She has a flair for expressing emotions.

(12)
Anonymous,
August 13, 2009 1:29 AM

Dear Yael, First I'm very happy that you & your husband are both safe. After such an ordeal, I can just imagine how you felt when you arived home & was able to hug & kiss your children. At a time like this we thank G-D for intervening and keeping us safe. May you & your family continue to be safe.

(11)
Ruby G.,
August 12, 2009 11:22 PM

An essential lesson on appreciiating life

BS"D
I'm so sorry that you had to go through this ordeal. The writing was so real that I felt like I was on the bus with you, and I cried along with you afterwards.
Thank you Yael for being a source of inspiriation. I'm proud to know you.
Ruby

(10)
Anonymous,
August 12, 2009 3:53 AM

touching

the terror felt by the author is palatable. but it seems as if a good lesson was learned. you can never love your loved ones too much only too little. this is a good wake up call.

(9)
barbara s,
August 11, 2009 7:28 PM

a very moving story with universal appeal.

(8)
ERROL,
August 11, 2009 6:40 PM

Lack of care

I am truley sorry that you or anyone should experience such a scary ordeal.This type of incident happens all to often because the company owners and the authorities just dont care.they will just go through the motions and make a profit.No disaster prevenion is even considered so how can we expect common decency.Its always said oh well thats Israel,but that does not make it right.Can you imagine any where else in the civilised world hiring someone just because you can pay him less

(7)
Gavriel Fineberg,
August 11, 2009 1:17 PM

This is a very touching article.. well done, I hope to read your future columns.

(6)
,
August 11, 2009 11:04 AM

God is in control

I can not really imagine what life is for many on this earth. I live in a save country far from trouble but even though I often feel somehow cranky and not satisfied but God may help me and all who read that article to get things in the right perspective.

(5)
ruth housman,
August 11, 2009 10:20 AM

"wake" up calls

It shouldn't take tragedy or imminent tragedy, to make us realize the value of those we love and of being alive. We should savor every moment and we need to tell those we love now how much we love them. Maybe it's wise to live life as if every moment we see someone could be the last, so we need to tell those we love how much they mean to us, always.
This is a deep article about a profound subject.

(4)
Rivky,
August 10, 2009 4:31 PM

THis is a very well written and important article for ppl to read!!! it is such a great reminder and almost wake up call for many!!! thank you

(3)
Gemma,
August 10, 2009 3:17 PM

Thank you for reminding me not to take life for granted

(2)
malka,
August 10, 2009 3:07 PM

thank you.

thank you, thank you for sharing so that i can learn from your story and there should be no need for reminders from above.... beautifully written ...

(1)
Sarah,
August 10, 2009 11:03 AM

touching

Baruch Hashem that you can tell us this story, reminding us of the important things in life!

I just got married and have an important question: Can we eat rice on Passover? My wife grew up eating it, and I did not. Is this just a matter of family tradition?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

The Torah instructs a Jew not to eat (or even possess) chametz all seven days of Passover (Exodus 13:3). "Chametz" is defined as any of the five grains (wheat, spelt, barley, oats, and rye) that came into contact with water for more than 18 minutes. Chametz is a serious Torah prohibition, and for that reason we take extra protective measures on Passover to prevent any mistakes.

Hence the category of food called "kitniyot" (sometimes referred to generically as "legumes"). This includes rice, corn, soy beans, string beans, peas, lentils, peanuts, mustard, sesame seeds and poppy seeds. Even though kitniyot cannot technically become chametz, Ashkenazi Jews do not eat them on Passover. Why?

Products of kitniyot often appear like chametz products. For example, it can be hard to distinguish between rice flour (kitniyot) and wheat flour (chametz). Also, chametz grains may become inadvertently mixed together with kitniyot. Therefore, to prevent confusion, all kitniyot were prohibited.

In Jewish law, there is one important distinction between chametz and kitniyot. During Passover, it is forbidden to even have chametz in one's possession (hence the custom of "selling chametz"). Whereas it is permitted to own kitniyot during Passover and even to use it - not for eating - but for things like baby powder which contains cornstarch. Similarly, someone who is sick is allowed to take medicine containing kitniyot.

What about derivatives of kitniyot - e.g. corn oil, peanut oil, etc? This is a difference of opinion. Many will use kitniyot-based oils on Passover, while others are strict and only use olive or walnut oil.

Finally, there is one product called "quinoa" (pronounced "ken-wah" or "kin-o-ah") that is permitted on Passover even for Ashkenazim. Although it resembles a grain, it is technically a grass, and was never included in the prohibition against kitniyot. It is prepared like rice and has a very high protein content. (It's excellent in "cholent" stew!) In the United States and elsewhere, mainstream kosher supervision agencies certify it "Kosher for Passover" -- look for the label.

Interestingly, the Sefardi Jewish community does not have a prohibition against kitniyot. This creates the strange situation, for example, where one family could be eating rice on Passover - when their neighbors will not. So am I going to guess here that you are Ashkenazi and your wife is Sefardi. Am I right?

Yahrtzeit of Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (1194-1270), known as Nachmanides, and by the acronym of his name, Ramban. Born in Spain, he was a physician by trade, but was best-known for authoring brilliant commentaries on the Bible, Talmud, and philosophy. In 1263, King James of Spain authorized a disputation (religious debate) between Nachmanides and a Jewish convert to Christianity, Pablo Christiani. Nachmanides reluctantly agreed to take part, only after being assured by the king that he would have full freedom of expression. Nachmanides won the debate, which earned the king's respect and a prize of 300 gold coins. But this incensed the Church: Nachmanides was charged with blasphemy and he was forced to flee Spain. So at age 72, Nachmanides moved to Jerusalem. He was struck by the desolation in the Holy City -- there were so few Jews that he could not even find a minyan to pray. Nachmanides immediately set about rebuilding the Jewish community. The Ramban Synagogue stands today in Jerusalem's Old City, a living testimony to his efforts.

It's easy to be intimidated by mean people. See through their mask. Underneath is an insecure and unhappy person. They are alienated from others because they are alienated from themselves.

Have compassion for them. Not pity, not condemning, not fear, but compassion. Feel for their suffering. Identify with their core humanity. You might be able to influence them for the good. You might not. Either way your compassion frees you from their destructiveness. And if you would like to help them change, compassion gives you a chance to succeed.

It is the nature of a person to be influenced by his fellows and comrades (Rambam, Hil. De'os 6:1).

We can never escape the influence of our environment. Our life-style impacts upon us and, as if by osmosis, penetrates our skin and becomes part of us.

Our environment today is thoroughly computerized. Computer intelligence is no longer a science-fiction fantasy, but an everyday occurrence. Some computers can even carry out complete interviews. The computer asks questions, receives answers, interprets these answers, and uses its newly acquired information to ask new questions.

Still, while computers may be able to think, they cannot feel. The uniqueness of human beings is therefore no longer in their intellect, but in their emotions.

We must be extremely careful not to allow ourselves to become human computers that are devoid of feelings. Our culture is in danger of losing this essential aspect of humanity, remaining only with intellect. Because we communicate so much with unfeeling computers, we are in danger of becoming disconnected from our own feelings and oblivious to the feelings of others.

As we check in at our jobs, and the computer on our desk greets us with, "Good morning, Mr. Smith. Today is Wednesday, and here is the agenda for today," let us remember that this machine may indeed be brilliant, but it cannot laugh or cry. It cannot be happy if we succeed, or sad if we fail.

Today I shall...

try to remain a human being in every way - by keeping in touch with my own feelings and being sensitive to the feelings of others.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...